Silent Contest
by Facetious Sage
Summary: A short little tale set in the Soul Calibur world. This is a small side-story that takes place when Nightmare attacked Hilde's homeland of Wolfkorne. This story only contains OCs and does not otherwise reference the series. M for some violence.


**SILENT CONTEST**

There was once a man named Herman Klein who lived in a small village called Friedenburg in the Kingdom of Wolfkorne with his wife Leyna. Friedenburg was set away from the main roads, being mostly a farming village, and for most of its history it had been largely ignored by the rest of the world.

Herman made his living as a butcher, while Leyna tended to their small cottage. He was a portly man, short and stout, and he was inordinately proud of his bushy mustache, perhaps because the rest of his hair had abandoned him long ago. Each morning he would carefully trim it after shaving around it, and would meticulously groom it until it was perfect.

Leyna was a full ten centimeters taller than her husband. A beefy woman with rosy cheeks and a cheery smile, she was also known to be rather shrill and demanding at times, but this was because it was often difficult to handle her stubborn husband. Still, they had been married for a long time, and they generally enjoyed one another's company, but as with all couples they would have their disputes as well.

The Holidays were coming up, and Leyna was keen on visiting her mother in the distant village of Entfernt, but Herman did not enjoy traveling long distances, and he had hoped to go see the traveling circus that was scheduled to arrive in Freudenstadt, which was much closer and also had the advantage of not containing his mother-in-law.

"But I never get to see my mum, Herman." Leyna complained.

"You've seen her before. Isn't that enough?" Herman shot back.

"Tch. You are impossible. I've a mind to never speak to you again."

"Promises, promises!"

"Oh? Is that how it is? You despicable beast! Perhaps I **shall** give you the silent treatment!"

"Leyna, you would not be able to stay silent a minute, never mind forever." His head hurt. He did not want to be having this conversation.

"So you say! I could stay silent longer than you can, certainly, what with you going on about your mustache all the time!" She retorted.

"Oh? So that's the way you want it? Fine! Let us agree to remain silent, and the first one to speak must agree to the other's holiday plans."

"You think you will win? I accept your challenge!"

And with a huff, they both folded their arms and turned their backs on each other, each determined to not be the one to speak first.

That night, Leyna became concerned about the contest. Her normally verbose husband had stayed silent for hours, and she worried that she would not be able to keep to the contest. _I must find a way to make him speak_, she thought to herself, and with that she began plotting.

The next evening, they silently ate their meal together. Leyna had made a roast, but had

deliberately burnt it so as to upset her husband and make him speak. Herman scowled, but he shoveled his food to his mouth in determined silence.

_He's __**never**__ eaten my cooking without complaint!_ Leyna thought. _I must do something more._

So that night, as Herman slept, Leyna brought out his shaving kit and completely removed her husband's prized mustache. _It is a good thing he sleeps like a log_, she thought, _or I should never have been able to do this. Certainly he will say something when he wakes!_

But Leyna was wrong. Herman's face went beet red as the blood rushed to it, the veins on his neck bulged and pulsated, but he kept his silence, shaved the rest of his face, and went off to work.

Even when people complimented him on how much younger he looked without his beloved mustache, Herman did not reply. He was surprised at how long Leyna had been able to maintain her own silence, and he was determined not to be bested by her at this.

Weeks passed and they each remained unspeaking, much to the consternation of the other. Their silence was discussed by the rest of the village, even if they themselves could not speak of it. A small betting pool had been made by the other villagers on who would be the first to say something. The odds were running 3:1 against Herman Klein, as his wife was even more actively trying to find ways to make him speak.

She would walk by him and step on his toes, she would spill drinks into his lap, she would hide his pants, she would feed stray cats to have them around (he was allergic to them), but nothing she did would break his resolve.

By and by, a detachment from the army of Wolfkorne Castle arrived at the village, and the Captain announced that an invasion was coming and that all able-bodied men were to be conscripted to the service of the King.

Leyna thought to herself, _if I can somehow get them to notice my Herman, he would certainly have to speak up, as he is no soldier._ And so, as the Captain made his way through the town asking for volunteers to step forward, Leyna bumped into her husband as they walked by, sending him stumbling into their path.

"So! There is a man of courage in this village, after all!" Remarked the Captain, as he examined Herman with some uncertainty. "You do not seem to be very fit; however, your willingness to fight does you credit. Is there any reason you would not be able to perform this service for your King? Speak now."

If he could, Herman would have explained about his aching back and poor knees. He would have told the Captain of his blurry vision and his general ineptitude when it came to violence. But, of course, Herman could not speak, and so he was issued a helmet, a shirt of thin chainmail and a sword and was ushered into the service of the Army.

Leyna almost spoke out to object to this, but the sight of her husband remaining silent encouraged her to hold her own tongue. _Perhaps they will find him unfit and send him back, after all_ she hoped, and so she returned to their cottage to make it nice and neat for his return, her desire to annoy him having been shaken.

Herman (who, as noted before, hated to travel) was marched all the way to Castle Wolfkorne where he was then drilled in basic fighting. He endured his weeks of training in stoic silence. After his training, he was assigned to a platoon of soldiers, and they were given the assignment to scout the enemy's position and report back to the Captain.

However, Herman was no soldier and when the enemy ambushed their patrol, he hid in a bush pretending to be dead until the fighting was over. His entire platoon was killed in the fight, and he had hoped that the enemy would move on afterward. Their soldiers were well trained, though, and examined their fallen foes and so he was subsequently discovered.

"Oi, this one's alive." a gruff voice called.

"Bind him up and we'll bring him with us as a prisoner." came a reply in a soft, yet authoritative voice.

And so it was done. They bound him up and marched him back to their camp where he was chained up and guarded. Herman had no idea what they intended to do with him, and he began to despair. He even found himself missing Leyna and her awful cooking.

He did not stay at their camp long, but was shuffled further away from his home and after two weeks, he was brought to a town in the enemy's lands, and was taken to a prison there and thrown into a dungeon.

_What do they need to keep me for?_ Herman wondered to himself. It seemed like such a waste to bother with keeping him alive, though he was glad not to be dead. Although he was a simple man, he still preferred that things make sense to him, and it did **not** make sense that they go through the trouble of feeding him and moving him unless they had a reason to do so.

He was not wrong in this. After a night of sleeping on a hard, cold stone floor, he was instructed by his guards to accompany them. He was led to a large chamber with many strange devices. He was not alone in this room. Aside from his guards, there was a very obese man who stood with his back turned to him. The obese man was shirtless, and the hair on his back was like an animal's pelt.

The reason his back was turned was because he was focusing his attention on someone who lay on a table in front of him.

The man on the table was screaming.

Herman swallowed nervously. It was to be torture.

Lying on the table, Herman was unable to look around as straps bound him to it by his wrists, waist, ankles and head. The obese man grinned toothlessly at Herman as he busied himself with straightening his implements of torture neatly and blowing off the occasional mote of dust he would spot on them.

A soldier came in....no, not just a soldier. He was whipcord thin, and walked with a purposeful stride. His angular face was severe, his eyes were deep-set and cold. The man had the bearing of an officer. He stopped smartly before Herman.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly. "My name is Johannes Von Adelung. I am the Head of Interrogation for the army of the Azure Knight, whom has besieged your people and decreed that your lands are ours."

Herman gave no reply. Even if he would permit himself to lose his wager, he wouldn't have known what to say.

"You show more discipline than most," Johannes said, "but that is just for the time being. I have many things which I wish to ask you in regards to your position and defenses, but first I would like you to spend the night and consider the means with which we have to...encourage you to talk."

And with a sharp motion, he spun on his heels and began to leave, snapping his finger smartly as an order for the others to leave as well. Herman was left there overnight with nothing but the large room, the torture devices, and his own imagination...which was uncommonly vivid for this particular occasion.

The next day, Johannes returned, with his large toothless servant.

"Good morning," he said, with crisp efficiency dulling the brightness of the phrase. "Today we shall talk about your defensive line. I presume you have taken the previous evening to recall the details."

The fat one, meanwhile, busied himself by wiping down a spiked rack with an almost tender look on his face.

Herman said nothing.

"I see," Johannes mused. He turned to the torturer. "Zahn! Remove one of his fingers."

Though he had never felt pain like this before, particularly so deliberately inflicted, Herman's scream stopped just short of leaving his throat, his mouth opening in silent agony. When the deed was done, he felt a burning and throbbing ache where his finger had been, and oddly he could almost feel sensation where his finger once was.

_It's the ghost of my poor finger, haunting me already_, he thought bitterly.

But he did **not** say it aloud.

In fact, Herman did not say anything at all that day. He was returned to his cell roughly, and he curled himself into a tight ball and went to sleep.

Months passed, and every few days, he would be brought to the Interrogation room where Johannes Von Adelung would question him and, failing to get information, would order him to be tortured.

"May I crush his teeth, Sir," Zahn had asked Johannes once, eagerly.

"No. Do what you will with his body, but leave his teeth and his tongue intact. He will need them for when he is ready to speak."

And the things that Zahn had done! They were unspeakable things! Along with some of his fingers, Zahn had flayed parts of his legs, had burned off his lips, had stretched out his body on the rack, had applied thumbscrews to him, had beaten him with a club and broke his bones, had smashed one of his cheeks so bad that his face did not heal right and ever afterward had sagged to one side.

"_I'll tell you everything I know, though it isn't much! I'll tell you how many soldiers I saw in our army. I'll tell you the defensive positions I know we took! I'll tell you about our equipment and machines of war! I'll tell you anything and everything only please, please, PLEASE stop the pain!_" is what Herman Klein **wanted** to say.

But then he remembered his mother-in-law; even taller than his wife, and far fatter. Her wrinkled face was dominated by a gourd-like nose, above which were two small eyes that stared balefully. She seemed to have no neck, her chin flowing down to just become her torso, and her dark gray hair was bound severely behind her. Her voice was shrill and commanding, her opinion of Herman was less than flattering. To be trapped in her home for weeks while they visited......

...and so Herman Klein told Johannes nothing, and Zahn continued to do the work he loved so much.

"I have broken everyone who has ever been brought to me", Johannes told him once. "Surely, you must realize there is no hope. Your short-sightedness disgusts me. Zahn! Remove one of his eyes!"

Even when the hot poker touched his left eye, Herman kept his screams and cries of agony to himself, and did not speak.

_Will nothing break this man?_ Johannes thought to himself, impressed despite his own frustration.

There was no way for Herman to keep track of time. He felt he had been captive forever, and his days were spent either in isolation in his cell, or in the torture room where pain was his constant companion.

It was during one of these sessions when Johannes was half-heartedly asking him the same questions again that they were interrupted. A young soldier of the enemy burst into the room. Johannes head snapped up, his expression hotly angry.

"What is the meaning of this disturbance?" He ordered.

"Sir...the siege....it is lifted. Wolfkorne has repelled us. We are lost!"

A look of rueful thoughtfulness crossed Johannes' face. "I see. Dismissed." he told the soldier.

Zahn grabbed Herman's head with his massive hand, pulling it back to expose his throat. "Then we don't need dis one no more, Sir. May I kill him?"

Johannes glanced over, considering.

"No." and there was no mistaking the look of upset that crossed Zahn's face. "Set him free."

Grudgingly, Zahn set about unfastening Herman. Free of his bonds, Herman rubbed his aching limbs with what remained of his hands. Johanne stood before him.

"You, sir, are too fine a man to kill. Your unflagging loyalty to your homeland is a testament to the courage of the people of Wolfkorne. I have broken every other man who has been brought before me. You have fairly beaten me, and have earned my respect. You are free to go" and he snapped a sharp salute to him, as the other guards opened the door and stepped aside, clearing the way for Herman to go free.

"This failure was mine, Zahn. I must pay the penalty. My honor demands it, but I shall put your own devoted service in my final report. If I must die, I am honored to have met the will of the finest warrior I have ever met." Johannes said to his companion.

And Herman Klein, the middle-aged Butcher of Friedenburg, wandered aimlessly for a very long time, since he would not stop to ask anyone for directions. By and by, a passing merchant took pity on him, and when the merchant mentioned where he was heading, Herman eagerly smiled, and was invited to join the caravan which eventually took him home.

Home. A more beloved sight cannot be had when one has been away from it for so long. Herman felt that way now, and he stumbled clumsily, having to use a stout stick for support as he walked, his once rotund body now skeletally thin, his mustache never to be grown on the burnt flesh of where his upper lip once was...his left eye patched to hide the gaping hole with the scarred flesh around there, his body covered in scars, his face sagging to one side.....his disheveled gait slow, despite his desire to hurry now that his home was within the waning sight of his remaining eye.

The cottage was much the same as when he had left it, save for the feeling of despair that had overtaken it from the intensity of Leyna's grief. She had cried every day in all the months that her husband was gone. Every night she lit a candle and put it in the window in the ever diminishing hope that he would return home.

She was sitting there, knitting and crying, when he came through the door.

For a moment she almost did not recognize him, so different was his appearance. Then she saw his familiar features underneath all of the damage that had been done. She was unsure if it was an apparition, as this was too much to hope for! Could this truly be her Herman? After all this time returned to her! Her heart broke to see him in such a state, but it was contrasted by her burgeoning joy at seeing him once more after so long an absence. She ran to him, arms flung wide, and embraced him as eagerly as he embraced her.

"Oh, my beloved Hermy! I thought you were dead!" She said through her strongly flowing tears.

"AHA!" Herman cried triumphantly. "We **are** going to Freudenstadt!"


End file.
